


As the Qrow Flies

by KesonaFyren



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Mild Language, Murder, Spoilers: Volume 6 (RWBY), Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-11 21:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17454794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KesonaFyren/pseuds/KesonaFyren
Summary: How an amoral bandit child became a Huntsman: five snapshots from the life of Qrow Branwen.Chapter One is set when Qrow is six.Chapter Two is set when Qrow is nine.Chapter Three is set when Qrow is fifteen.Chapter Four is set when Qrow is seventeen, while at Beacon.Chapter Five is set just before the airship heist, and I'm headcanoning him as about forty-three.





	1. Six

Qrow could hear heavy footsteps and the rattle of armor long before the traveler came around the hill. He climbed to his feet, squeezing his sister's hand, as the man came into view. The Huntsman's clothes were torn and dirty, but the armor he wore over them was well-maintained – as was the long, bladed rifle peeking over his shoulder.

Qrow sucked in a deep breath and screamed. " _HELP!_ "

The Huntsman tore forward, armor clattering even louder as he reached the twins. "How'd you kids get out here? Are you hurt?" he demanded, dropping to one knee in front of Qrow.

"M-Mom s-said we had to run," he stammered. Raven pressed her face into her knees and sobbed, but didn't let go of his hand.

The Huntsman looked over his head, at the faint path that disappeared into the trees. "…How long ago?"

"T-This morning."

The man's shoulders sagged, his armor clanking again. "All right. Come with me, I'll get you somewhere safe before I go look for your mom, okay?"

Qrow nodded, struggling to keep from shaking as the man picked up his sister. Raven kept crying, her head leaning against the man's shoulder, though the metal plate couldn't have been soft.

"Keep hold of my belt, okay?" the man said kindly, moving Qrow's hand to his waist, near Raven's knee. Qrow clutched it, stumbling forward as the Huntsman started to walk. It was hard to keep up with the much taller man – he was almost running, looking for Grimm as he hurried forward. He carried his rifle in his hand that wasn't holding Raven.

Qrow couldn't help but stare at the rifle, it was beautiful. The blade and barrel gleamed bright silver, and the wood of the hilt was painted a deep green to match the designs on the man's armor.

They hurried forward for what felt like forever. Raven was getting worse, her hiccups and sobs turning into wails.

"It's going to be all right," the Huntsman said soothingly, staring around at the trees, hand tightening on his weapon. "You and your brother will be fine."

An arm wound around Qrow's throat, yanking him back, pulling his hand from the Huntsman's belt. He screamed, shoving at it in desperation. "Cut it out, kid," his attacker hissed, pressing a knife to Qrow's stomach.

He held very, very still.

"Let him go!" the Huntsman demanded.

The bandit laughed, his arm tightening on Qrow's throat, and the kid whimpered. "Nah, Mister Huntsman. Not unless you drop your weapon and kick it over."

"There's Grimm in the area!"

"So you can imagine I'd want something a little more substantial to defend myself with," the bandit waved the knife for the Huntsman to see. More bandits emerged from the bushes, holding all kinds of weapons, and all grinning at the cornered man. "Now, if you wouldn't mind?"

"You Branwens are worse than animals," the Huntsman hissed, throwing the rifle. It clattered over the stones, and the bandit kept a tight hold on Qrow's neck as he bent to pick it up. "Worse than _Grimm._ "

"Excellent choice, Mister Huntsman. Now, if you'd be so kind as to remove your armor."

He hissed in frustration, but knelt, placing Raven carefully on the ground. She curled into a tight ball, still sobbing quietly. The Huntsman's armor rattled as he removed it, piece by piece, and set it on the stones.

"All right, now back up," the bandit ordered, waving the rifle.

The Huntsman scooped up Raven once again before retreating. "Let the boy go."

"Gladly," the bandit said, dropping his arm and Qrow stumbled forward. "Isn't that right?!"

Raven vanished from his arms and reappeared next to Qrow, her eyes dry and lips drawn back in a snarl. The Huntsman barely had time to gasp before the tree trunk slammed into his side, breaking his aura with a loud _crack_ and a flash of green. He collapsed to the stone, clutching his ribs – and then went limp as the broadsword pierced his throat.

"Nice pull, kids," Bones said, wiping the blood off his sword with a piece the dead Huntsman's shirt. "Tell you what, you can have first pick."

 _If that were true, you'd let me have the rifle,_ Qrow thought, but muttered thanks along with his sister before running forward to dig through the man's belongings. Raven reached him first, tearing open his pack – there was a book on top of everything else, and she tossed it aside to dig further in.

Qrow didn't even bother with the bag's contents, moving straight to the bedroll tied to the bottom. If he couldn't sleep near the fire anymore, he needed an extra blanket. He worked it free just as Raven pulled a small knife from the bottom of the bag, grinning proudly.

"Hmm, pretty good quality," Bones said, flicking the blade. "You take care of that properly."

"You want the armor?" Fusia asked.

"It's too loud." Bones picked up the fallen book, spinning the pages in his hands. "We'll sell it in Mistral."

She nodded, stepping forward to take her share from the pack.

"Hmm." Bones snapped the book shut at looked over it at the twins. "You two know how to read?"

"I don't need to read in order to fight," Raven said, slashing at the air with her new knife.

Bones laughed. "There's more to fighting than swinging a blade around. Reading's a useful skill, missy. You can use it to learn other things – new ways to use Dust. How to keep a car working."

"Fine. Then teach me," she demanded, tucking the knife in her belt.

Qrow clutched his new blanket and wished that he could hold her hand again.


	2. Nine

"You've got five minutes," Bones snapped, kicking the man off his sword. "Any longer and the Grimm can have you."

"Race you," Qrow said, grinning at his sister before tearing for the stairs. These fancy-types usually kept a few valuables around the bedroom – he kicked in the first door on the right, pistol held at eye-level in case the wife was hiding up here.

The room was painted bright blue, pictures of Huntsmen and Huntresses plastered all over the walls, clothes and toys and picture books littering the floor.

"Ooh, bad luck, brother," Raven murmured in his ear as she passed. She opened the next door into a much less interesting room that was much more likely to have jewelry or cash stashed in it.

Qrow hissed, stomping into the bedroom, determined to find _something_. He yanked open the desk drawers, finding nothing but more picture books and drawings. The dresser only had clothes. Finally, he threw open the closet –

A scream leapt out as the door opened, light shining in on a kid about his height. He sat with his arms pulled around his knees, shaking in terror as he stared up at the pistol pointed in his face. He wasn't armed, so Qrow ignored him, rifling through the closet's contents. _More_ clothes – how much did these idiots wear in a day?

The weakling sobbed, covering his head as Qrow tossed the last drawer out into the room, scattering its contents across the floor with the rest. _Waste of time. Damn kids never have anything good._

"Please, don't hurt me," the kid sobbed, flinching so badly it looked like he was trying to shove himself through the wall.

Qrow rolled his eyes, leaning the pistol on his shoulder. "Good luck with the Grimm, kid." He slammed the closet closed, turning back to the door – maybe Bones would let them go through _one_ more house before they retreated.

Something caught his eye as he picked his way over the refuse – one of those picture books. A Huntress in a skull mask posed on the cover, slashing at a Beowolf with a curved blade on a wooden pole – it almost looked like a scythe, but smaller and with a straight handle. Farmers used scythes to defend themselves sometimes…could it be a new kind of weapon now? The book looked light, so he grabbed it.

"Find anything good?" Raven appeared behind him.

"You know I didn't," he snapped, shoving the book in his pocket. There was blood on her shirt. "Wife put up a fight?"

"Not really," she smirked, pressing a necklace into his hand as she walked around him, colored pencils snapping under her boots. "Guess I can't let you go home empty-handed."

Qrow rolled his eyes again, and followed her back downstairs.

 

The rough logs of the camp wall dug into his back as he pulled out the picture book. 'Adventures of the Grimm Reaper'. _Guess they are scythes._ Qrow shrugged, flipping it open.

_The Grimm Reaper, wielder of the twin scythes Life and Death, has been tracking the Beowolf migration across Sanus for months – but will she be able to stop them before they reach Vale?_

Vale? Sanus? Were these even real places? The picture underneath the words was of the Huntress from the cover standing on a mountain, looking down at an impossible number of Beowolves. A few Nevermores soared over the pack as well, apparently ignoring the woman.

He turned the page. She threw one of her scythes at the nearest Nevermore, catching it in the wing. Both weapons lit up purple with gravity Dust, and she flew into the air after the one she'd thrown.

He had no idea if Dust could really do that, but it was _undeniably_ cool.

"Drink up, drink up!" Bones laughed, flopping down next to him and passing him a cupful of beer. "Don't want the Grimm following us, do we?"

"Yeah, yeah." Qrow pressed the book back into his bag and kicked the cup back. …It was pretty good stuff.

"Come on, kid, your first raid!" Bones shouted boisterously. "Join the party!"

"Yeah, w' totally want the harbinger near the guns n' alcohol." Sanguin slumped against the corner of the nearest tent, wobbling as the pole bent alarmingly.

"You shut your mouth, Sanguin, he fought hard as you today," Bones slurred.

"Yeah. Point 'is luck't the enemy, wher' it belongs." He twitched his cup in the direction of the gate, sloshing beer all over the tent. " _You_ don' gotta pitch your tent next to 'im. 'M sick of cutting m'self shaving."

"It'd help if you ever did it sober," Qrow spat.

San's face reddened. "You think y'can talk to me like that?"

"Sanguin –"

"Y're gettin a little old to lure Huntsmen, kid. You think long and hard about what you offer this tribe before you go talkin ta folks like that, or y' may find yerself sleepin on the _other_ side of the wall –"

"SANGUIN!" Bones roared, staggering to his feet. He tried to punch the man in the face, but only managed to knock the flask from his hand. They both careened away, fighting incredibly poorly until Anza spotted them and slapped them both.

Qrow couldn't breathe, it was like the air had turned to soup. They…they wouldn't really leave him to the Grimm… …Would they?

He drank his beer, and when that was gone, he stole Sanguin's fallen flask and hid in the tent he shared with Raven and drank that too.


	3. Fifteen

_"What are you doing with my flask, boy?!"_

Qrow glanced lazily up from the comic. Sanguin stood on the other side of the firepit, stomping his way around the roasting deer, face an unusually dark shade of purple. 

"I got this on a raid," Qrow snapped, tucking the book in his shirt and holding up the flask.

"You're a damn liar!" the drunkard spat, drawing his knife. 

Raven's sword was at his throat before he'd taken two more steps, the yellow steel of her stolen Huntress sword glowing. "He's had it for at _least_ three years, idiot," she snapped. "He never puts it down."

Qrow raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on his knee with a crooked grin. "Why should I? This flask, why, it's like…a little brother!"

"Ever-present and causing accidents," Raven agreed, sheathing her sword. The smile slid off Qrow's face, replaced by a tired scowl.

"It's got my emblem on it!" Sanguin roared, pushing past her. "Scratched on the bottom!"

She grabbed his wrist, twisting until the knife fell from his hand, and she kicked it into the fire. "Then you lost it years ago. Move on."

"I've had about enough of you two," he hissed, stumbling away. Raven sighed, returning to her seat next to her brother, giving him a sharp look.

"What?" Qrow asked, tucking the flask next to the comic book. "He won't even remember it happened in the morning."

"He's gotten harder to deal with since Bones died," she snapped. "More of the tribe _listens_ to him now. And it doesn't help that you keep antagonizing him."

"Hey. I don't antagonize him. The asshole has it in for me."

" _Yes._ He _does,_ " Raven hissed, catching his arm. "So if you're serious about not killing him, don't make things _worse._ "

Qrow gritted his teeth, looking away from her. "Fine. I'll apologize."

"Don't admit you took it!" She smacked the back of his head with her free hand. "You _should_ pitch it into the forest before he sees it again."

"Fine, fine!" He wrenched his arm away and leaned forward on his knees, staring into the coals.

"I mean it, Qrow. The others are starting to talk. About your Semblance."

His stomach clenched. He knew already, he'd heard them. "It's not _my_ fault Mistral's paying more Huntsmen to hunt us down."

"They don't care. You're easier to blame than a bunch of city bureaucrats." She poked at the coals with a spare twig. "We've been attacked by three parties this year. Things are getting worse."

…Qrow wasn't going to get a better opportunity than this to pitch his crazy idea to Raven. He took a deep, steadying breath, muttered a silent prayer to any gods that might be listening, and finally put his plan into motion. "Well, maybe the tribe needs a way to fight Huntsmen. For real, not just picking 'em off one by one."

"And how are we supposed to do that?"

"By learning how they think," Qrow said, retrieving the comic from his shirt and flipping open the back cover. The ads were always printed on the last page, no matter which Huntsman or Huntress the book was about, no matter what year it had been printed. He'd seen dozens of variations over the years, but they all had the same basic message. _Be a hero._

Somewhere along the line, in the dozens of volumes he had pillaged and bought, that message had started to sink in.

" _Go to Haven?_ " she hissed, looking between him and the ad. " _Are you insane?_ "

"Not Haven," he said, rolling the book into a tube and tapping her arm with it. "Beacon. They just appointed a new headmaster – the youngest in history. I'm willing to bet he doesn't know shit about bandits, coming from Vale. It's _tiny._ " 

"He's not the only teacher at the school," Raven countered, though less forcefully than before.

"Of course not," Qrow shrugged. "But we've got an entire year before we're old enough to take their entrance test. We've got plenty of time to scout it out, forge our papers. And people like Sanguin wouldn't dare mess with us if we could fight like that." _Or, we could finally get out of here, without being hunted down._

"…We could lead the tribe, if we could fight like that," Raven murmured, the faintest of smiles playing around her lips as she stared at the embers.

Sanguin reappeared from the mess of tents, carrying a familiar backpack under his arm, stomping and panting like a bull. "You take somethin' of mine, I'll take something of yours," he snarled, lobbing it into the coals.

Qrow swore, springing forward, his aura sparking around his hands as he pulled the flaming satchel from the cookfire. It was too late, the synthetic fabric had melted like morning dew in the hot coals. All that was left of his comic collection were a few singed pages, stomped out under his boot – and _none_ of them were from the few Reaper books he'd managed to find.

"Consider the flask paid for!" Sanguin laughed, a grating donkey's bray. "You're too old for picture books anyway. It's time to grow up an' contribute."

Qrow glanced at his sister. She stared back, expectantly.

"Y'know, Sanguin, you're right," Qrow said, picking up the last book from where it'd fallen next to the log. It hadn't been great, he hadn't planned on keeping it anyway – he tore out the ad, tossing the rest onto the fire. "…Raven and I have an idea of how to handle our Huntsman problem. We need a counter force…"


	4. Seventeen

Qrow tried desperately to steady his breathing as the elevator floors ticked by. It was probably nothing. If the headmaster were on to them, he'd have called Raven too – or had them ambushed. He'd probably just bombed a test or something. Or maybe _Tai_ had bombed a test, and he was being asked to tutor, _that_ was more likely. …But wouldn't they call Summer?

His heart skipped a beat as the elevator slid to a halt at the top floor, pinging cheerfully. Why did they have to put Ozpin's office all the way up here? Getting sent to the headmaster's was nervewracking enough without _also_ being two hundred feet in the air.

The doors slid open, and Qrow forced himself to step out into the giant tower room. "Ah, Mr. Taupe. Please, come in."

"Uh, good morning, Professor," Qrow stammered. It was normal to be a _little_ nervous, right? It'd be weird if he was _totally_ calm. "How…can I help you?" _Too stiff! …Relax, he doesn't know how you usually talk._ If Ozpin knew, he'd have backup. There wasn't even anywhere to _hide_ backup in here – eighty percent of the walls were window, and the rest were lined with bookcases.

"Yes, quite the view, isn't it," the headmaster chuckled as Qrow perched nervously on the edge of a chair. "You'll notice I have my desk turned _away_ from the window. Hot cocoa?"

"Uh…thanks," Qrow said, accepting the mug.

"There's no need to be so nervous." Ozpin smiled. "I was looking over your course records earlier. I must say – for someone of your background, your marks have been exemplary. Your parents must be very proud."

"No parents, sir," he replied smoothly, though his heart was hammering even louder now. He was quizzing him on their story, he _had_ to know. There must have been a flaw on their passports, something that had taken a while to notice –

"Ah. My apologies. Have you enjoyed it here in Vale so far?"

"It's…" Qrow glanced to the left, down at the city, relieved to have an excuse to look away from the headmaster. "Cramped."

Ozpin chuckled. Was he laughing at him? "Yes, I'd imagine it can be a bit much after growing up in pastoral Anima. I was born in the city, myself," he said wistfully, "though it didn't take me long to leave it." He leaned forward on his desk, returning his gaze to Qrow. "Tell me, what made you want to become a Huntsman?"

Qrow buried his face in the mug, taking a long sip. He and Raven had one rule: use as much of the truth as possible. Though, he'd been hoping to avoid answering this particular question. "I…liked the comics," he stammered. It was so embarrassing to admit, here, where they were generally regarded as a cheap recruitment tool. "As a kid. What can I say, they made an impression on a dumb farmhand from Anima."

"That _is_ why the kingdoms keep printing them. Though, it doesn't explain your _current_ dedication."

 _I want to be like the Grimm Reaper._ Qrow stared into his hot cocoa. _I want to kill Grimm, not farmers._ He thought of Summer and Tai, the first people other than Raven and Bones to put up with him despite his stupid Semblance. _…I want to have a team I can trust._

His hands tightened on the mug. "I want to do good."

"An admirable goal." Ozpin took a sip from his own cup. "And I must say, I've been impressed with your efforts with that scythe of yours. Very few people in Remnant have learned to use such an unusual weapon, and you seem to be making great strides despite your lack of a proper teacher."

"Professor Carmine's been a _lot_ of help," Qrow said quickly. "We've been trying different moves, pulling from a few martial disciplines…"

"And all of it on top of your normal coursework, and your practice with the broadsword form of your weapon. Even without taking your lack of prior education into account, you are one of the top students in your class." He leaned back, opening a drawer in his desk. "Which is why I was so surprised to hear that you had brought alcohol onto the school grounds."

Qrow's shoulders sagged in relief as the headmaster set his flask on the desk. He'd misplaced it the day before – Dan must have taken it and ratted him out. But one case of underage drinking would just land him in detention, _maybe_ put a mark on his record, not get him shot for banditry.

"Now, I'm well aware the legal drinking age in Mistral is eighteen," Ozpin said, his eyes narrowing. "And outside the kingdoms…well. But you understand, while you are in Vale you must abide by the kingdom's laws."

"Yes, sir." Qrow tried to sound remorseful.

"Now, seeing as this is your first offence – and Miss Rose made me swear on my position as headmaster that you wouldn't get in any trouble – I see no reason to involve the police."

"Wait. _Summer_ told you?" Qrow blurted.

"She confessed to me that she was growing concerned, that you've been isolating yourself more and more. Have you been drinking more as well?"

He swallowed. "Maybe…maybe a little."

"Please don't be angry with Miss Rose. She agonized over the decision to come to me for help, I assure you. But I would like to remind you that Beacon has a number of health services available to students if you are feeling stressed. My door is always open, as well." He got back to his feet, offering his hand to Qrow.

"T-Thank you, Professor," Qrow nodded, accepting it. He had a surprisingly light grip, and Qrow hoped he hadn't accidentally crushed the headmaster's fingers.

"You have remarkably smooth hands for a farmer," Ozpin mused, running his thumb over Qrow's palm.

He snatched his arm back on reflex – and regretted it instantly. Could he _be_ more obvious? "I…I was kinda lazy," he rasped, completely unsure of what to do with his arms now. He settled on shoving them into his pockets. No, he couldn't have been more obvious if he tried.

The headmaster tilted his head, regarding him with fresh suspicion. "Is there something else you would like to discuss?"

Qrow fought to control his breathing. A _handshake_. A _stupid handshake_ was going to make his entire plan fall apart. "N-no, sir."

"Mister Taupe. This is exactly the kind of behavior that has your team leader so worried."

…It was over, wasn't it. Ozpin would dig into their records and find the forgeries, the lies. Even if he didn't realize the truth, they'd be kicked out of Beacon and barred from the other schools. How the hell did some scruffy young academic know what callouses a farmhand should have anyway? It wasn't _fair!_

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pushing back tears, and turned toward the elevator.

"Mister Branwen –!"

He'd known, he'd known the whole time, it was all a trap. Qrow whirled back to face the headmaster, reaching for his scroll to call his weapons locker, for his Semblance to cause a distraction – _any_ distraction…and stopped.

What was he going to do, kill the headmaster? Then what? Qrow had already thought this out a thousand times, over a hundred restless nights.

The tribe would kill him before the year was out – and Raven too if she kept sticking up for him, or if his Semblance flared up at the wrong time. But the police, even the teachers, didn't stand a chance of catching her. Not when she could return to Anima in the blink of an eye. She'd do well in the tribe, with a year of Huntress training and without him dragging her down.

…And the people here would at least give him a burial.

Qrow let his hands drop back to his sides. "Yes, sir." He wouldn't hurt any more Huntsmen. Not to buy himself time he had no use for.

"Mister Branwen." Ozpin's shoes and cane clicked on the floor as he walked around the desk. Qrow kept his eyes down, wiping at them angrily – he was _not_ going to die crying like a child. He flinched as the headmaster grabbed his shoulder. "Please. Let me help."

_Help?_

He finally met the headmaster's eye – there was no anger there, or pity, just kindness. "…I want to be a Huntsman." Qrow's voice cracked.

"What is holding you back?"

It all came spilling out. His lies to the tribe, to Raven. His hope that he could show her another way to live, a way where other people didn't have to get hurt and they could trust the people around them. Her refusal to see Beacon as anything but a way to increase their standing in the tribe. The innocent people he'd killed, before and after he'd started to think it was wrong.

He was sobbing like a stupid infant by the end, but Ozpin didn't shout at him, just handed him a series of paper handkerchiefs.

"Let me help with your sister," Ozpin finally said as Qrow tried to clean himself up. "I'm sure a little extra responsibility around the school and a few careful nudges in the right direction couldn't hurt, but it's important that you know this kind of healing takes time. It will –"

"You're not…throwing us out?"

"Good heavens, no. Banditry would be a terrible waste of your talents." Ozpin took his shoulder again. "Why don't you get some rest. Tomorrow is Saturday, come back in the morning and we can discuss your sister with clearer heads. And I hope you will allow me to refer you to one of the campus counselors."

Qrow nodded, unable to find his voice. He felt like he could sleep for a week.

"Then I'll see you at ten o' clock." Ozpin smiled. "It's all right if you're a little late. Get some sleep."

Qrow glanced back at the desk, where his flask still sat next to the computer monitor. "…I know you have to pour out the whiskey, but…can I have my flask back?"

He chuckled. "I'll give it back as a twenty-first birthday present." The humor slid from his face, and suddenly he seemed…older. "Though, Mr. Branwen, I do wish to warn you…Hunting and drinking do not tend to mix well."

He nodded. "Uh…Thank you, Professor Ozpin."

Qrow slumped against the elevator wall as soon as the doors were shut. It was like a massive, crushing weight had been lifted off his lungs. Ozpin knew everything, and let him live anyway. He could still go to Beacon, could still become a Huntsman! And he might not have to choose between… all of _this_ , and his sister.

He stumbled through the busy lobby of the CCT tower, avoiding the gaze of students and employees – his eyes were probably a lot redder than normal. The automatic doors hissed open as he approached, letting him out into the orange light of sunset – he'd been in there at least an hour. A warm breeze ruffled his hair as he wandered down the steps, eyes still glued to the ground.

"Qrow!"

He froze, staring at the bench to the left of the tower entrance, and the white-hooded figure that had just leapt up from it. He wasn't the only one who'd been crying. "Qrow, I'm _so sorry_ , I didn't know what else to do, you – you never talk to anyone, you've been drinking more and more, I just –"

He threw his arms around her and squeezed, cutting her off. "Thank you, Summer."


	5. Forty-three

"Do you have any _Grimm Reaper_ books?"

The clerk jumped, looking up from the game on her scroll with embarrassment. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't hear you there."

Qrow smiled patiently. "I'm very quiet."

"Uh…you said Grimm Reaper?" she asked, clicking around on her computer. "I'm sorry, we only have used titles. I think that book's a little new, I don't think we've gotten any. …Yeah, sorry. Nothing in the system."

"Wait. New? These were printed decades ago." he said, setting his scroll on the counter, showing the few pictures he'd managed to find on the web. "But there were never that many to begin with, and they used pretty cheap paper back in the day. There aren't a whole lot left." 

The bag Sanguine threw on the fire all those years ago would be worth several thousand Lien by now.

"Yeah, that's it!" she said, tapping the screen. " _The Adventures of the Grimm Reaper._ You might be able to find one at Sunray's. They're two blocks north of here – is that an alternate cover?"

"Nah, the series originally ran when _I_ was a kid," Qrow said, tucking his scroll back into his shirt. "But they're pretty hard to find these days."

"Oh! I didn't realize it was a reprint. Well, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, I'm just looking for the one book, but thanks," he said quickly. She smiled and returned to her game. Qrow slipped out of the shop as quietly as he'd entered, and forced himself not to run down the street. 

Had they seriously reprinted them after all this time? He'd been looking for years, any time he had an hour to kill in a town with a bookshop, but he'd never seen one for sale even online.

It was the first time in three days he'd thought about something besides liquor, or their insane plan to steal from the Atlas military.

Sunray's was twice as large as the used place, and had half as much merchandise. Qrow hadn't been in a _new_ bookshop in years…it didn't smell the same. More coffee and detergents, less old paper. Not quite as homey.

Though, _this_ shop finally had what he was looking for, on a big display table right up front. Hardcover, the size of one of Tai's coffee table books full of pictures of classic motorcycles. The cover was either new or from an issue he'd never found – a masked Huntress flying upward toward a Nevermore, one scythe in her hand and the other stuck in the Grimm's neck, the violet light of gravity Dust arcing between the weapon's halves.

First they meet Maria, and now this. If Qrow had believed in fate, or in gods that weren't complete bastards, he might have thought the universe was trying to make up for the past week. As it was, he grabbed three copies – one to carry, one to ship home, and one to give to Ruby and Yang. _One_ of them _had_ to make it to Patch unscathed, Semblance or not.

There was no line, so Qrow smiled politely at the clerk and dropped them on the counter before fishing for his wallet.

"Do you want me to double-bag these?" he asked, the register beeping as he scanned them.

"Huh –?" Qrow glanced at the kid, then followed his gaze back to the shop's front door. "…Yes please." He really hoped Maria couldn't see how red his ears were turning, because she was already making a beeline straight for him.

"Qrow, I thought I saw you come in here!" she said brightly. "Say, young man, you don't have any books about airships, do you?"

"Right over there," he said, pointing toward the back. Qrow slipped him the Lien, but he was too busy staring at Maria as she shuffled past. At her cane in particular. "I love your cosplay."

"My what?" she blinked in confusion, her goggles clicking as they opened and closed. Qrow set his head on the counter with a dull _thunk._

"Uh…your cane…?" the clerk stammered. "It's really detailed."

"Thank you," Maria replied politely, still sounding a bit confused, but she continued on toward the nonfiction.

His Semblance just couldn't leave him alone for more than a few minutes, could it?

"Do you want gift wrap?" the clerk whispered.

"No, thank you." Qrow shoved the Lien into his hand. He wanted to get out of here before Maria figured out what he was doing and _never let him hear the end of it._

"So…are you two related, or…?"

"Just colleagues," he said coolly, accepting the double-lined bag.

"Oh, cool! Where do you work?"

"The military base!" Maria said, tossing a book about airships and a wall map of the base onto the counter. She looked at Qrow. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to chip in."

"Sure," he sighed, pulling his wallet back out. He still couldn't believe she'd agreed to help – but then, she'd said she needed her eyes checked. And the border was supposed to be closed until further notice.

"Wow, does it really have a blade?!" the clerk gasped, leaning over the counter to stare at Maria's cane. She turned straight to Qrow, glaring at him.

"You came in here to buy that stupid comic book, didn't you?" Maria demanded, jabbing him in the stomach with the butt of her cane.

" _Oof!_ Okay, fine!" he shouted, swatting it away before she could poke him again. "Yes, I bought the book."

She scowled, returning the cane to the ground and holding her free hand out. "Give it." With some trepidation, he slid a copy out of the bags and handed it over. "How _many_ did you buy?!" she demanded, eyes widening as she waved the copy he'd given her.

"My Semblance _shreds_ stuff! I've spent twenty years trying to replace the copies I had when I was a kid –"

"Oh, whatever," she huffed, leaning her cane against the counter and snatching a pen from the jar next to the register. She flicked the cover open, scribbled something on the first page, and snapped it shut again before handing it back to him. "Be a dear and carry my bag?"

"Sure."

She headed back toward the door, and Qrow flicked the cover back open as the clerk processed the payment, reading what she'd written.

_Stop drinking, you're scaring Ruby. – Maria_

He tucked it back in the first bag, and accepted Maria's things from the clerk. "Thanks."

"Have a good night…?" the bewildered kid called after them.


	6. Chapter 6

I wrote _As the Qrow Flies_ to try to get some ideas down so I could work on other projects…which went about as well as putting water on a grease fire. As soon as I realized it was plausible that the events of Mountain Glenn happened during STRQ's Beacon days I couldn't let it rest. So, I'm writing a _much_ longer fic about STRQ's Beacon days that _also_ features the perspectives of Summer, Tai, and Raven. [The first chapter's already up, so if you enjoyed this maybe give it a look!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679840/chapters/44299657)

 

(I'm also posting related art and jokes on my RWBY Tumblr, @fire-the-headcanons)

 

 

### Follow the Beacon                     

Qrow has imagined running away for years. Of course his dream would come true in the worst possible way, that's just his luck.

Raven knows an opportunity when it's staring her in the face. It's a risk, sure, but no one in the tribe would dare challenge a bandit Huntress.

Taiyang is tired of his sleepy island home. The local Beowolves haven't been a challenge for years—he wants to get out there and do something that matters.

Summer knows the world is broken. Gods help anyone looking to widen the cracks.

 

As the strongest freshman team at Beacon Academy—and the least cohesive—team STRQ has drawn plenty of attention from the staff. But why are they all so concerned with that new expansion in Vale? And who is the mysterious young Headmaster?


End file.
